


A Perfectly Normal Human Function

by omojolras



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Bladder Control, Bladdershy Jacobi, Desperation, M/M, Omorashi, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 12:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11275146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omojolras/pseuds/omojolras
Summary: Daniel Jacobi is used to absolute control. He's still learning to accept the fact that he can't control everything.





	A Perfectly Normal Human Function

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains omorashi! If you're not into that, you don't have to read this!
> 
> "But this isn't how peeing works in space—" shhhhhh I just wanted to write desperate Jacobi

Daniel Jacobi pressed his thighs together, fiddling with some switches in the engine to distract himself. Absentmindedly, he took another sip from his coffee.  _ Just a few more minutes, _ he thought to himself, shifting his weight from side to side from his spot on the floor.  _ Just a few more minutes, and I’ll go. _

Maxwell, a few feet to his right, glanced down from her work on some panel. “You okay?”

Jacobi nodded. “Yeah, yeah, ’course.”

As the minutes ticked by, this became further from the truth. Still crouched on the floor, he pressed his crotch to the ground and winced. He hadn’t peed for hours, and the coffee he’d absentmindedly been sipping all morning was rapidly filling his bladder.

He could go to the bathroom. Technically. He could. But—

A sudden wave of desperation hit him, and he leaned forward, pausing his work. His right leg, then his left, began to jiggle back and forth.

Maxwell glanced down at him again, a hint of exasperation on her face. “Oh my God, just  _ go.” _

Jacobi winced, doing his best to sit still. “What?”

She rolled her eyes, half amused, half concerned. “Oh, come on, Daniel. I know you.”

Jacobi felt himself flush red. “I’m  _ fine.” _ It wasn’t a complete lie—he could hold it, at least for now, as long as he kept fidgeting. And as long as Maxwell would stop talking about it.

“There’s a bathroom right down the corridor,” Maxwell sighed.

Jacobi gritted his teeth. She thought he didn’t know? “I’m well aware, Alana. I told you, I’m fine.” He squirmed around for a few seconds, looking intently at a jumble of wires. “And besides, Kepler’s been pacing up and down that hallway all day.”

A look of understanding dawned on Maxwell’s face. “Oh. Oh, right.”

Jacobi’s face flushed, but Maxwell seemed to recognize his predicament, and went blessedly quiet, giving him time to focus on the task at hand. Well, the tasks, plural: a routine maintenance check of the Urania engines, and making sure he didn’t wet himself.

He knew it was stupid. He knew it was stupid, the way he could blow up a dozen buildings without batting an eye, but the thought of anybody knowing he had to use the bathroom was terrifying. He hated himself for it, really—the fact that he couldn’t admit he needed a piss, walk down the hallway, say hi to Kepler, and relieve himself. But the thought of Kepler knowing—

He blushed at the thought and pressed his thighs together.  _ You can hold it. You can hold it, you can hold it, you can hold it. _ And if he couldn’t—well, he would. He’d make sure of it.

As though reading his thoughts, Maxwell spoke again. “You know, it’s a perfectly normal human function. Everyone needs to piss.”

Jacobi let out a dry laugh, then winced at the wave it sent through his rapidly filling bladder. “Everyone? Not Kepler.”

Maxwell fell silent. It was true—Kepler seemed to forgo most perfectly normal human functions. Neither of them could recall any time they had seen Kepler display the slightest bit of desperation. 

Jacobi took a deep breath, readjusted his legs for the fiftieth time, and went to work checking a tangle of wires for any hazards. Everything looked normal. He closed the panel, fingers beginning to tremble as he moved on to his next task.

His bladder felt oddly swollen, filled to the brim with liquid. With every jerky movement he made, he felt the swollen water balloon of his bladder slosh, and he did his best to suppress a groan. 

“I might go out and check if Kepler’s still there,” he said to Maxwell, doing his best to keep his voice casual. “You know. Just because.”

Maxwell glanced down at him and almost laughed. Her best friend, a formidable six feet, looked like a little kid. He was crouched low on the ground as he examined some wires. One foot was jiggling nonstop, the other stuffed under his crotch; he swayed from side to side every two seconds; his hands trembled, and he was clearly itching to hold himself. “God, you moron, just  _ go. _ Kepler’s not—”

The doors to the engine room slid open with a hiss of pressurized air. “Mr. Jacobi. Dr. Maxwell.” 

Jacobi grinned inwardly. Of course. Of  _ course _ this would happen to him. “Colonel Kepler,” he said, scrambling to his feet, doing his best to stand at army posture and give a salute with an overly full bladder.

Standing up seemed to double his need. Doing his best to maintain his posture, he shifted his hips from side to side, pressing his thighs together surreptitiously.

Kepler didn’t seem to notice. “Dr. Maxwell, you’re needed in the Hephaestus engineering department. Something about Hera’s processing systems. Some minor glitch.

A line appeared between Maxwell’s eyebrows. “Is she all right?”

Kepler waved a hand absentmindedly. “Fine, fine.” His steely gray eyes zeroed in on Jacobi. “How are the engine room checks going?”

“Fine, sir. I’ll be finished in no time.”  _ As long as you leave this whole goddamn ship for about two minutes,  _ Jacobi added to himself.

“Good to hear. Maxwell—to the AI.” Kepler’s eyes flickered to Jacobi. “I can help you out with the system checks. Make it faster, you know.”

Jacobi’s eyes widened. He traded half a look with Maxwell, who couldn’t seem to decide if she wanted to look sympathetic or burst out laughing. “Oh, uh—th-that’s very kind of you, Colonel Kepler, but I’m sure I-I can finish up alone—don’t you, uh, want to walk Maxwell t-to the Hephaestus?”

Kepler gave Jacobi a quizzical look. “Don’t be ridiculous. I can help.”

Maxwell drifted over to the doors, still looking as though she was on the verge of laughing. “Uh, well—good luck, guys.” Her eyes passed over Jacobi one more time, and the doors hissed shut.

Jacobi let out a low hiss of air between his teeth. God, as if this situation couldn’t get any worse. Trapped alone with his superior—with  _ Kepler _ —when he was squirming around like a five-year-old.

“So, Jacobi.” Kepler clasped his hands behind his back, looking, as always, like he was plotting some grisly murder. “What’s left to do?”

“Oh—I can show you.” Jacobi pushed himself along the walls, grateful for a chance to move. "The fuel lines could use a routine check."

"Excellent." Kepler examined the fuel lines, face impassive.

Jacobi took this as his cue to make his way over to his previous station. Under the pretense of dropping a wrench, he crouched down behind a large metal box and dug his heel into his crotch. He took a few sharp, uneven breaths.

Why did this always happen? Why couldn't he just say it—say, "Hey, Colonel, I need a piss"? Or hell, "I'll be right back"? They'd been through everything together, and Jacobi still couldn't admit when he was on the verge of wetting himself.

_ Don't think about it.  _ Jacobi opened up a panel with more force than necessary and examined some switches and gears, hands, trembling. In the few minutes Kepler had been in the room with him, Jacobi's need seemed to have tripled. He was sweating, trembling, bladder a heavy weight in his lower abdomen.

_ Just say it, _ he begged himself. _ Hey, Colonel, I'll be right back. I'll be right back. I'll be— _

"Mr. Jacobi," Kepler said over the hums and clicks of the engine room, "have I ever told you about that time with the Goddard missile event?"

A hard, heavy weight fell into Jacobi's stomach.  _ Not now, _ he pleaded with Kepler. This story would take twenty, thirty minutes—time he didn't have.

"Jacobi? You listening?" The question was not a question, but a threat of what was to come.

Jacobi swallowed hard, doubling over. "Yes, sir. I don't believe you've told that one before.”

Kepler began to tell some long-winded story, voice a slow, steady drone. Jacobi did his best to fight the growing pressure in his bladder. All the liquid he had been sipping for the past few hours seemed to have suddenly shot to his bladder, and he couldn't hold it for much longer. He squirmed on the floor, swinging his legs from side to side, jiggling one foot, then the next, rocking back and forth—and none of it helped/ In fact, it almost seemed to increase his desperation.

Kepler was saying something about missiles. Maybe. It was impossible for Jacobi to focus at this point. His bladder felt stretched beyond capacity. When he leaned forward, it seemed almost ready to burst. He didn't dare touch his bladder—any extra pressure of have been the end—but ht was certain it was rock hard, too full to sustain any extra pressure.

His bladder was sending warning signals to his brain, a desperation that rendered him unable to think anything but  _ gottagogottagogottago. _ Jacobi knew with a certainty that he couldn't make it any longer than a few extra minutes. Even if he could make it to the bathroom, unzipping his uniform was a different matter—it was a one-piece suit, with seemingly endless zippers, and he'd nearly soaked himself inches away from the toilet before...

At the thought of a toilet, a slow, steady stream of drips began to trickle down Jacobi's left leg. He let out an audible gasp and, completely giving up any cool pretense, shoved both hands between his legs and began a spectacular potty dance. After a few more seconds of wetness, he managed to step the flow.

For a few moments, Jacobi was so relieved that he had managed not to wet himself completely that he didn’t notice that Kepler’s voice had tapered off. Jacobi glanced across the room and saw that Kepler was giving him an odd stare.

“Mr. Jacobi? Are you all right?”

A wave of heat spread from Jacobi’s face to his toes. He was fairly certain he had never been this embarrassed in his life, and he knew that if he didn’t do something soon, the humiliation was about to intensify tenfold.

Kepler was still waiting for an answer, eyebrow raised. A war raged inside of Jacobi.

_ You can’t piss yourself in front of the Colonel. _

_ You’re going to piss yourself. _

_ Just ask to go. _

_ This is the worse you’ve ever had to piss. _

Another wave of desperation rocked through Jacobi, and he felt another stream of urine spurt out, this one more prolonged. “I have to go,” he blurted out roughly, stepping towards the door. Another trickle—more of a jet—stopped him cold.

Kepler continued to stare. “What do you mean? Where are you going?”

“I—I have to—”

Jacobi scrambled towards the door, practically hopping from foot to foot, but the dam burst. He was pissing so hard that, for a moment, the wind seemed to be knocked from him. He whimpered, holding himself for a few seconds in a flimsy attempt to stem the flow, but the relief nearly knocked him over, and he gave in. He moaned as the warm wetness washed over him, as the urine pooled in his boots and soaked his suit.

He seemed to pee endlessly. As the final trickles escapes him, he let out a small whimper. Empty at last, he felt almost dizzy, as though he had fallen asleep and awoke in a different world.

And then reality crashed back down. As he slowly lifted his head, he met Kepler’s steely eyes.

Jacobi’s face flushed a color he didn’t know was possible. “I—I—” His hands flew to his crotch, as though that could conceal the damage. “Colonel Kep-Kepler, I-I’m so sorry, I—”

He cursed himself. The relief seemed to have loosened his tongue. Ashamed, he averted his eyes.

The colonel gazed at him, expression unchanged. “Ah, you know, Mr. Jacobi…” The corners of his mouth twitched for half a second. “There is a bathroom down the hallway.”

Jacobi’s face flared brighter. “I know,” he muttered, voice barely above a whimper.

“And?”

“I…” He did his best to ignore the pinpricks of tears at the corners of his eyes, hoping they were from relief, not some other emotion. “I’m…I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t want to interrupt a job. I—I have this thing, you know, about, uh, letting other people know—it doesn’t matter. I, uh, I thought I could wait.”

Kepler’s eyes traveled to the urine-darkened legs of Jacobi’s suit. “Evidently not.”

Jacobi winced. “No, sir.”

The two men stood in silence for a few moments. Jacobi breathed shallowly, still coping with the ecstacy of an empty bladder coupled with his growing humiliation.

“Well, go clean yourself up,” said Kepler after a long silence.

Jacobi glanced up at the older officer. “Sir?”

“Clean up. You’ve got extra uniforms, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get one. Get changed. Come back. Finish your job.”

“O-Of course, sir.”

Jacobi didn’t move. Kepler raised an eyebrow. “Is there something you don’t understand, Mr. Jacobi?”

“I…” Jacobi’s cheeks grew hot. “I can’t. Everyone will see—” He did his best to fight off the tears that were suddenly coming again for no reason. “Everyone will see that, that I wet myself like some little kid. You’ve already seen me. I—I can’t.”

Kepler fixed Jacobi with a cool stare. “That’s not my problem.”

Jacobi felt the warm wetness of his uniform cooling, clinging to his legs, and he hated himself. His superior officer hated him. He couldn’t hold his own piss, something a fucking  _ five-year-old _ could do. And Kepler saw it all.

And he could feel the tears coming, and he hated himself—

“I’ll get it.”

Jacobi glanced up and saw Kepler’s expression. What was it, pity? Amusement? It was foreign, but not unwelcome. “What, sir?”

Kepler sighed. “I’ll get you a clean uniform. What the hell. As long as it’ll get you back to work faster.”

Jacobi blushed, staring at his urine-filled boots. “You don’t have to—” He cleared his throat. “I mean, thank you. Thank you, sir.”

“It’s forgotten.” Inches away from the automatic doors, Kepler paused and glanced back towards Jacobi. “You know, you’re not the first grown man I’ve seen wet himself. It happens. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

And he was gone.

Jacobi took a deep breath, not sure what to unpack first. The fact that he’d wet himself? The fact that he’d wet himself in front of  _ Kepler? _ The bizarre kindness of Kepler?

For the moment, he focused on the lightness of his bladder, focused on how  _ good _ it felt to be empty. He stroked his cock through his saturated uniform, wondering if he could get off before Kepler returned. Or maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Kepler walked in on that, too. It had been a very strange day.


End file.
